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It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
When our goodwife got puddings to make,
And she's boild them in the pan.
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The wind sae cauld blew south and
north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
"Gae out and bar the door."
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"My hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman, as ye may see;
An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year,
It's no be barrd for me."
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They made a paction tween them
twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak,
Shoud rise and bar the door.
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Then by there came two gentlemen,
At twelve o clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle-light.
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"Now whether is this a rich man's
house,
Or whether is it a poor?"
But neer a word wad ane o them speak,
For barring of the door.
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And first they ate the white
puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel,
Yet neer a word she spake.
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Then said the one unto the other,
"Here, man, tak ye my knife;
Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard,
And I'll kiss the goodwife."
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"But there's nae water in the
house,
And what shall we do than?"
What ails thee at the pudding-broo,
That boils into the pan?"
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O up then started our goodman,
An angry man was he:
"Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad me wi pudding-bree?"
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Then up and started our goodwife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
"Goodman, you've spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door."
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